Karen McLaughlin’s second novel incorporates similar themes to those of her first, 1995’s Choral. From This Distance examines women’s relationships with each other and the damage those relationships can do. This is frequently travelled fictional territory, and while McLaughlin doesn’t bring anything especially new to it, her story is well-told and compassionate.

When her mother-in-law Muriel dies, Robyn inherits the older woman’s car. Driving home to Calgary from New Brunswick (where Muriel was buried), Robyn is torn between feelings of contempt and affection for the dead woman. It takes her most of the Trans-Canada Highway to come to some sort of understanding about Muriel, who embodied everything Robyn fears becoming.

Unfortunately, Robyn never outruns her biggest fear: becoming, like Muriel, a complainer. Recalling a typical afternoon with Muriel, Robyn laments, “What I get for my efforts is an afternoon of complaining about [the relatives] when they’re out of earshot.” The irony is that it often seems as though the two women are in competition to see who can complain the most, who can be the most passive-aggressive. 

McLaughlin’s writing is compelling, despite suffering from a desire to fit everything in, both in terms of descriptive details and the scope of the narrative. And even though most of the supporting characters remain shadowy – Robyn’s husband is seldom seen as more than a self-centered man forcing his own will on his family, and her children, supposedly the light of her life, are all but invisible – Robyn and Muriel are authentic, and their journey is an interesting one.